Between Nakama
by Scatter Plot
Summary: Companion piece to Feel No Shame. Zoro finds Sanji sleeping on the kitchen floor,but can't seem to grasp any words of comfort to offer the cook. NonRomance more of a understanding.


**A/n: This is completely written for Crescent Silver. I didn't plan on venturing out any further into this fandom, because I doubted I would have any success there. No offense One Piece readers, but you seem to be lazy reviewers. Anywho, I orginally wanted to do this piece with Luffy but Crescent mentioned her love for Zoro (Zolo) and I had a change of heart. It's not romantic or friendship orientated...its more of an understanding between the two. Ah just read!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.**

The obnoxious clatter of slamming cabinet doors and rustling pans is what drew Sanji from his rather short rest. Groaning, the lashes over his unshaded eye slowly raised and narrowed to catch a glimpse of the broad back of a crouching samurai.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Hm?" Zoro Roronoa peered over his shoulder, eyes a bit wide in surprise at being caught in the act- whatever it was. With his one-track mind, Zoro hadn't noticed the sleeping dough puncher in the corner.

"I was looking for the rum," he answered plainly.

"At this hour?" the cook eyed him skeptically, rising up on his elbows.

"I couldn't sleep," a low sound of irritation escaped the swordsman's throat as he continued to pillage through cabinets and drawers.

"You?Couldn't sleep?" the blonde couldn't help but snicker. After all, Zoro did spend 20 hours a day unconcious.

"Stop interrogating me, you shitty cook!" he growled. "Besides, what the hell where you doing sleeping on the galley floor?"

A smile snaked across his features as he spotted the wine rack in the corner of the room. As his dirt stained feet passed by the lounging chef, Sanji shot up at the realization of his crewmate's intentions. "Fuck Zoro, those are my cooking wines!"

"The rum's in there," he grumbled, gesturing toward the large wooden dresser lining the wall.

The former pirate hunter just snorted in frustration and stalked toward the cabinet. Casting open the heavy oak doors, he took no time in browsing over the selection. Grabbing the nearest bottle and popping out the cork with his thumb, he plopped down beside the obviously troubled cook.

"I don't recall requesting company," Sanji griped, sitting upright and lighting up another cigarette.

"Oh shut the fuck up," Zoro ran a hand through his thin, jade colored hair. "Just let me finish my drink and I'll be out of your way."

Avoiding the prospects of futher confrontation with the disgruntled blonde, Zoro took a quick gulp of the piercing liquid. The alcohol burned as it was force to travel down his throat, but sent pleasing signals to the brain. He didn't really know what was wrong with Sanji nor did he care to ask, but for some reason it was really starting to piss him off.

"Want some?" he grunted, twirling the the bottle infront of the cook's face.

Sanji's eye narrowed as he watched the contents of the glass bottle swirl, the intoxicating smell lifting from the open container. "No thanks," he shoved the bottle back toward Zoro. "Unlike you I have to get up and prepare meals for everyone, which will be much easier to do without a hang over."

"Wuss," Zoro mumured before continuing to chug the substance.

"What do you care?" Sanji's voice was thick with venom as he removed the burning cigarette from his lips between his lithe fingers. He exhaled a cloud of grey smoke infornt of the swordsman's face.

"Those are going to kill you," Zoro coughed, "you know?"

Sanji just loosened on his tie and laughed. "They're the least of my worries," he flicked ashes onto the floor.

Zoro just paused, unable to grasp words. He could almost see the emotions behind his crewmate's dark blue eye, something sad and searching for answers. But who was he to say anything comforting? If he even could. It's not like he and the cook were actually friends. Sure they made one hell of a team in the heat of battle, but to go as far as to call them friends would be a bit much.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Sanji's words shook Zoro to life as he reached out and grabbed the rum bottle the samurai was holding mid air. "You were staring at me like some fucking carnival attraction," he said after a long gulp.

"Wouldn't be straying too far the truth, now would it," Zoro smirked, snatching the bottle back.

The two passed the rest of the time in silence. Zoro drank and Sanji smoked. One empty bottle and three cigarette's later, Zoro rose from his resting spot and staggared toward the counter. He set down the empty bottle with sigh, becoming _this _inebriated wasn't initially apart of his plan. He didn't want to look over his shoulder, because he knew Sanji would still be sitting there with that lost look on his face and he without out any words of solace. But could he really just leave him there? Abandon his nakama?

Gathering his swords that he had along the wall, Zoro treaded solemly toward the exit. After all there was nothing he could say, he was just a useless man. If it didn't involve metal and bloodshed, he couldn't help you. But something was forcefully tugging on both his heart and his lips, and before he had the chance to comprehend it all the words had already formed.

"Sanji," his hand gripped tightly around the wooden door frame, "you're an important part of this crew."

The cigarette dangling from Sanji's lips dropped onto the floor with an almost silent 'thud' as the swordsman disappeared behind the frame. Zoro's words were sharp and pierced right to the matter of the cook's anxieties. Oblivious to how to the green haired man knew of his troubles, Sanji just smiled and picked up the fallen cigarette. After smothering it out against the floor, he folded his arms across the back of his head and resumed his rest.

**a/n: review damn you!**


End file.
